


Hiding

by MartinaHolmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Desire, Embarrassed John, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, POV John Watson, Sherlock deducting John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinaHolmes/pseuds/MartinaHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is feeling more and more desire towards Sherlock. The detective, being the detective, deducts John only to realise he is the object of lust for John. He confronts the doctor about it... to prove a point..or out of his own feelings?..<br/>Happy reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiding

**Author's Note:**

> My first POV piece. I have had troubles with this work so I hope it was worth it!  
> PLEASE PLEASE leave a comment about what you think!

I got into the shower trying to control my mad thoughts. Shower seemed to be the only place nowadays where I can get away. Away from him. 

For days on end I have been avoiding Sherlock's gaze, his mesmerising eyes that followed me everywhere. I couldn't look the man in the face, I couldn't stand his presence near me without having to question my motives: what do I want from him?

I guess I was doing fine ignoring the turning pain at the bottom of my stomach every time I saw Sherlock talking to another man, another being. His eloquence made a huge impact on anyone that came his way, and he used it. He used his charm to get information out of people, out of suspects. And even though I knew it was only for cases, I couldn't fight the tremendous anger building up inside me: jealousy. 

But I was doing fine. Until. 

Until that evening after a largely successful case, when we got home, tired but satisfied. Sherlock felt happy and for once his busy, difficult thoughts seemed to leave his brain. 

I made a fire in the fireplace to warm the room up and occupied myself with making tea. Even then, before it all happened I felt embarrassed for enjoying the view of Sherlock's perfect silhouette in the light of the fire. 

“Enjoyed today then?” I asked the detective trying to hide the absolute awe I had towards the man. Sherlock was sitting in his usual armchair, completely silent. His eyes studying me.

I have seen that look on multiple occasions, a look of intensity and concentration. But never on me. 

“Sherlock..?” I cleared my throat nervously and waited for a comment about myself that was surely to come.

“You're hiding something John. You're hiding something from me.” Stated the detective still sitting on the armchair but now straighter and alert, trying to crack everything about me.

I felt my heart beat faster and my stomach dropped as I heard him say something I wanted to hide from myself. I was hiding something. A feeling towards Sherlock that I have been trying to ignore for weeks if not months. 

But how could I ever confess my thoughts to Sherlock without loosing a friend in him. I can only imagine his disgust in me. Have I not heard, numerous times, how much he despises love, affection and all feelings that follow? He would think of me as ordinary. Another one of the boring and simple. I couldn't confess. 

“What are you talking about,” I started, my gaze on the teacups. “ I may be tired, but I hold no secrets. Not from you.” I lied trying to make my voice confident and not shaky. I know I haven't convinced him, but at least he will know I don't want to talk about it. 

He looked at me for a little while until eventually dropping his eyes to the floor. It was surprising to see him give up so easily, but I didn't think much abut it, glad to be let off the interrogation. 

I poured the boiling water into the cups and went to sit across from Sherlock. His black curls were shining from the light, his sharp face looked warm and his pale skin reflected some colour back. He was beautiful but I couldn't stare at him for much longer without raising his concern so I dropped my head and started playing with my own fingers to try and ignore Sherlock. 

“ I am tired tonight,” Sherlock broke the silence after a little while. “But not enough to sleep yet. Stay with me for a few moments, will you?” the detective asked as he brought the tea cup to his lips. 

I wasn't surprised really. Lately I could hear Sherlock up all night, in the kitchen, in the living room, working on his experiments until dawn. He lead a really bad lifestyle but was always too stubborn to hear about changing any of it. I didn't interfere. 

“Sure, I will. But only a couple more minutes, I am exhausted.” I explained to the detective and gave a subtle smile. I have been smiling at Sherlock more and more over the past weeks, without being able to hold back. On many occasions I felt myself needing to show the man sympathy and affection. The question was only what kind of affection. 

I did not want to think about my feelings towards Sherlock on that particular night. I was tired and he already grew suspicious so it was safest not to. I always do the safe thing. 

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I took a risk. If I let myself go and went with the feeling of the moment. Would he snatch my hand off his knee with disbelief and fear, or would he hold my hand tighter against him, against his thigh...and up...

“John?” the detective awoke me from my day dream with the look of worry all over his face as I let out a breath I didn't even realise I was holding and sat up instantly feeling caught. 

“Hm?” I managed to make out as quick as I could to not raise his suspicions even more that evening. “What did you say?”

He glared at me for a moment, trying to revise my thoughts, with his sweet lips parted and a fire in his eyes. “God I need to stop.” I thought to myself taking a grip of my lust towards him. Without success.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to bed now. I am going.” Sherlock spoke, his voice dripping with depth. I wondered if he noticed what effect he had on me , but quickly pushed the thought to the back of my mind and focused on getting away from the man before I lost it all. 

“Yes..yes lets go” I managed and slowly stood up, avoiding his stare. I placed my mug on the table beside me, already creating a mental note to myself to remember to wash it all up. I headed to the door preparing to wish the man good night when I felt it. 

Sherlock stood right behind me. His long, warm fingers travelled up my arm, leaving an enticing trail of tingling, as I stood anticipating his next move feeling more and more shaken by what he was doing. His hand travelled past my shoulder, slow and deliberate, until settling for just below my neck. 

I couldn't make out the detectives motives. So long I have wanted any sign of affection from the man and when I finally got it I didn't know what to do. My breaths became separated and quick as I couldn't control my heart reacting to the man's touch.

“Sherlock..-” I began, my voice low and weak and unable to hide the excitement from the moment. I turned around to face the detective. His eyes were still on fire, sweet lips parted as he took his other hand and ran it through my hair. The warmth of his palm sent electricity up and down my body instantly until my heart was no longer able to beat any faster.  
I was enchanted by the man's allure, completely lost in his intent look that seemed to uncover every bit about me. I stared back, no longer able to hide from my own self what I wanted from the moment, when he spoke:

“I know desire when I look at the person instantly,” His warm breath against my cheek created a feeling which I will never be able to forget. My stomach made a tremendous flip as I waited for Sherlock's next move. “I have seen it in you tonight.” stated Sherlock and lowered his lips to my cheek. 

Slowly he pressed his wet, warm lips against the skin on my left cheekbone, and before I could demand more, before I could get a chance to see what desire tastes like, he let go of the side of my head, passed through the door and up to his bedroom. 

I could not move. I felt paralysed from the situation and his closeness. The man left me without conclusion, without closure, in the room, alone and lonely. God knows how long I have been standing there, unchanged , attempting to control my ragged breaths. 

I was read like a book. Sherlock knew how I feel about him, but didn't , in any case feel the same back. He couldn't have shown it clearer. He just wasn't interested. 

This realisation hit me in my chest and left me breathless. My cheeks burned and my fists were clenched. I knew Sherlock cracked me like one of his cases, he proved a point and by now, like always, has probably moved on. 

I took I deep breath in, and headed towards my bedroom feeling more shame and embarrassment with each second that passed. 

I could still feel the wetness of his lips against my cheek, but now it bore the mark of my humiliation before the detective. My stomach sank and I could feel my muscles tense up as I worked myself up with my thoughts.

Before I reached my bedroom all the excitement and enticing anticipation of evening, evaporated, leaving me only with my morbid humiliation and the dread of tomorrow.


End file.
